Good Men
by An Unknown
Summary: If someone told you that being a good man was a good thing...he or she lied.


_**A/N: The idea for this story came to me quite suddenly one evening as I was pondering Human Nature. Once again, I hope you enjoy my slightly melancholy tale here; it's my take on what 'really happened' in the canonical ending to the series. The ending is a little odd, but I always liked to believe that the youngest Weasleys did indeed eventually grow up—even if it seems clear in the Epilogue that Ron hasn't yet. Oh, yes. I don't own this universe, and I don't want to get any money out of this, so please don't sue me. Hermione at one point quotes Whittier. Please don't sue me for that, either. PAXDEITECVM.**_

Harry ducked out of the rain and into the small and—at this hour at least—quiet coffee shop. At the moment there was only one other patron in the establishment; a relatively young-looking and, to some tastes, quite attractive woman sat in the corner, staring at her steaming cup. Harry thought to himself, That's why she looks young; you can't see her eyes.

Shaking himself slightly to rid his person of the rain that had poured down on him all the way there—and to avoid getting caught staring at her—he went up to the till and ordered an excuse to sit at one of the shop's tables. She looked up just as he sat down across from her. 'So what'd you get'?

He considered the question for a moment, and even tried to peek into the cup to see, but in the end was forced to give it up as a bad job. 'I'm not really sure. It sounded expensive enough to be worth the time we may spend here'. She laughed briefly, but quickly sobered again. The two sat there for a long time, staring at each other, as though trying to drink in all the changes that the other had undergone in the last many years.

A customer came and went and still they sat, looking into one another's eyes, conversing without words. At last she broke the silence. 'So…how long has it been'? A rhetorical question, but both answered in unison, 'Six years, eleven months, and nine days'. She laughed again and said, 'So apparently I'm not the only one who was keeping such a close count'. It had indeed been nearly seven years since the pair had had the opportunity to speak privately. They'd seen one another at family gatherings—they were, after all, brother- and sister-in-law—but there were always so many things to deal with at such encounters: kids to keep from killing one another, daughters- and mothers-in-law to separate, meals to prepare. It had been a very long time since they'd had a real conversation.

He took the initiative. 'God…how? I mean, I knew intellectually how long it had been, but saying it out loud…it seems so long…' He laid his hand across the table, and she did the same, gripping his arm. All at once the tension seemed to disappear. He spoke, more freely this time, 'So how've things been for you, anyway? I don't talk to Ron much either any more, so all I know is what I've read in the Prophet'.

'Things are humming along quite nicely for me on the work front. We've had some setbacks, of course; the Wizengamot was quite put out by the notion that it should have a body of Commons in it. But I've discovered that they have a certain reverence for great wizards and sages of the past, so it was a relatively simple matter to point them to the relevant passage in Aristotle—you know he was taught by the original Ollivander, of Ollivander's Wands—and they all caved very quickly after that'. He laughed at this. 'What'?

After calming a bit, he replied, 'Oh, nothing. It's just a very Hermione way to go about it, that's all. Research what some old dead guy had to say about it, because old dead guys are always the best'. At this she gave him a half-hearted swipe with one hand, and they both laughed. Suddenly growing serious, he completed the thought, 'Books and cleverness, that's my Hermione'.

She cocked one eyebrow, 'Friendship and bravery, that's my Harry…dear God, do you really still remember that? That was…almost thirty years ago now'!

'Well, it was the first time I can remember being hugged, so it sorta sticks in my memory if only for that reason'.

'Oh, Harry…the way those people treated you…' She began rubbing his arm in a soothing fashion, as though it could somehow transmit comfort back in time to the occasions when he'd been sent to his cupboard and not allowed out. 'Still, I suppose it's better that you remember it in connection with your first hug, rather than the whole Voldemort thing. Also, I remembered it too after so many years, so I can't really fault you for remembering…'

They fell silent, but it wasn't too long before Harry prompted her again, 'You were saying how well it was going for you career-wise'.

'Oh, right! Well, apparently—this is what I've heard—they're thinking of making me stand for the next Minister. I don't think it's a good idea; I don't really deserve it, but they may force me'.

'Rubbish, Hermione. Frankly, I've been wondering why they haven't made you stand sooner. You'll be the finest Minister since Sir Francis Bacon, I have no doubts. And the first muggle-born Minister, too. Quite a feather in your proverbial cap, Mrs Granger-Weasley'.

Her smile faded somewhat. 'Yes, well…at any rate, things aren't quite so even on the home front'. She smiled sadly.

He gently inquired, 'Rose'?

'Well, partly…we still haven't heard from her. I just don't understand it. We aren't angry with her; we weren't even when we first found out about her and Scorpius. It just…hurts that she didn't trust us with it. We would have been happy for her, and maybe it could have been a way to make peace between Ron and Draco. But…because she eloped, he hates him more than ever.

'And Ron…I don't really know what to say about him. I…well, the other day I was looking for something and ended up rummaging through his bag to see if he'd taken it. I found…'

Harry's face hardened, and he interrupted her, 'Don't tell me he's been seeing that old secretary of his again'.

'No, no! Thank God, no; we got past that years ago. But…I don't know, when I think about it, it seems a silly thing to get upset about…'

Harry prompted her, 'Hermione Granger-Weasley is not in the habit of getting upset over silly things. Now, we all have to start somewhere, obviously, but even if this is your first step into a long career of being silly, I'd like to see it'.

She laughed. 'Well…he'd gotten a traffic citation. A lot of them, actually. None of the fines had been paid—and really, with that many, he should have had his license revoked. I asked him about it, and he told me not to worry about it; he just confounded the officer who gave him each citation, making them forget to file them. And on the rare occasions when he had been summoned, he simply confounded the magistrate to get him to commute the fine.

'I asked him why he thought it was all right for him to just confound random strangers like that, and he just looked at me with a puzzled expression. Finally he answered, "They're just muggles; it's no big deal"! But it is a big deal. My parents are 'just muggles'. My little sister is 'just a muggle'. He doesn't seem to understand that the world doesn't revolve around wizards—let alone him'.

'I know exactly what you mean, Hermione. And seeing as tact is not exactly his strong point…I imagine things like that must come up quite a bit'.

'Oh, all the time. But we'll make it work. We always have. How're you and Ginny getting along, anyway'?

'Oh…much the same, I guess. We keep talking past each other, I feel like. And as Lily approaches graduation, I guess I'm sort of realising that…we don't really have all that much in common any more. And I can't tell if it's better or worse than fighting, the way things have just sort of…petered out. I suppose it must be better, seeing as we're still as affectionate…physically speaking'. Hermione smirked at this interval, and Harry blushed slightly before continuing. 'She doesn't understand the problems I still have because of…everything that's happened. And it's not her fault; she tries to understand, but she can't. She wasn't there. And isn't there, as I've continued my career of hunting dark things and people'.

'Oh, Harry…you know I'm here if you ever need to talk something out. We haven't done it a lot lately, but maybe we should have been. I can make time for my best friend if I don't have it already'.

'That's what makes it worse. I know that. I've known that. But…it should be her I talk these things out with…I dunno. Maybe you're right. Maybe we have been foolish to think we can handle it on our own or with spouses who try but don't really understand. Because I know you've had the same problems; I see it in your eyes. But, like you say, we'll make it work. We always have. And what other choice is there'?

She softly echoed, 'What other choice is there'?

They both sat in silence for some minutes. The rain continued to pour down outside the shop, and another customer came and went before Hermione broke the silence.

'You were saying a moment ago that you think it's your spouse you ought to be going to for support, but Ginny can't help you…have you ever thought…it might have been a mistake'?

'Every damn day. Every damn day'. After a few moments, he continued, 'But that doesn't matter. It was a mistake, I think I've realised that now. But it's a mistake I've made. I can't very well undo it. So it's a mistake I'll have to live with'.

'"For of all sad words of tongue or of pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been'". Seems to me it about sums it up. Have you ever thought about it? What might have been'?

Harry laughed nervously. 'Well, there it is. The elephant in the room we've both done our best to ignore ever since it became clear our chosen paths weren't working so well. You know, I've only just realised it recently, but…for at least the last twenty-five years, my conscience has spoken with your voice…you've always been the first priority in my mind, at least since the end of third year…'

'It's been longer than that for me. From year one…friendship and bravery were more important to me than books and cleverness. I don't know why it took me so long to realise that…all Ron and I had ever had in common was magic…and you. Not the soundest foundation for a friendship, let alone more'.

She brightened, 'Although I suppose I do have a hypothesis; death and sex have always been intimately linked in the human mind, that's something that's been recognised at least since ancient Greece. I suppose it is possible that the way in which we were forced into an accelerated process of adolescence with regard to death also caused us to grow up too quickly in regard to sex. We moved too fast, and made sloppy mistakes…'

At this juncture, Harry interrupted, 'You know, Hermione, as fascinating as that is, I don't think a psychology lesson is quite what either of us is after right at the moment…'

She blushed. 'You see? I really am bad about that kind of thing'.

He laughed. 'Well, I think it's wonderful that you know so much and can share it with poor laymen like me. But it did sort of interrupt an important discussion…' More quietly, 'Also, as between us, I think the blushing suits you very well. You're radiant in any case, but it just adds to it'.

She blushed even more. 'Well, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Ron thinks my little tangents are just annoying. In a similar vein, I think he still can't get over the fact that I didn't want to have any more children than we have…or that I outrank him, for that matter—I an upper level advisor to the Minister, he a mid-ranking officer in the law-enforcement department. I think he still expects me to one day come home with the urge to retire from my career to be a housewife. And while that's a noble career in and of itself…it's not really me, if you follow'?

He nodded in understanding. After a few moments of silence, 'So…what now? I mean, where do we go from here'?

'Well…we could…give it a try, I guess'?

And for one brief moment, Harry and Hermione forgot all about duty and did something that felt right. They both leaned in to seal it with a kiss, each mirroring the other almost perfectly. Their foreheads touched, but…their mouths stayed centimetres apart. For two minutes, they sat there like that. All that either could hear was the beating of their two hearts, synchronised perfectly. All that either could see was the other's face. But neither could move closer to kiss.

After a few minutes, both sat back into their chairs at precisely the same moment. 'Dammit', Hermione breathed. 'Dammit, dammit, _dammit_'.

'You know, for the girl who used to give me grief about my language all the time, you seem to be cursing a bit yourself these days'.

'Tell me you don't agree. No? Of course you agree. It really, _really_ sucks to be a pair of good men'.

'No, you're right. It does suck, and I do want it to be damned. For as long as I can remember, I've had to live my life in service to those around me. And it sucks. They tell you that service feels good, that it's fun. That's a gods-damned lie. Service is hard and unrewarding, and more often than not the people you've served hate you for it. But…it's the right thing to do. So it's what I've done my best to do'.

She nodded. 'We do it in public, but we do it in private as well. We serve 'the People' in our work, and then we go home and serve our respective spouses because we want them to be happy, even at our own expense. And we don't do things that would hurt our spouses—like being unfaithful—even if they would be fulfilling to us. Because that's what we do. We do our duty. And duty is sacrifice'.

She sighed. 'We should do this more often. Blow off steam to one another. And I think we've just established we're both too noble to do anything untoward'.

He nodded. 'Too noble. Too noble, indeed'.

That evening, each of them, in their separate houses, prepared for bed early. They went to bed at the same time, and each found themselves crying themselves to sleep for the comforts they could not have.

* * *

Many years later, on a cloudy winter day, an old man and an old woman, brother and sister, made their way into a particular cemetery in the small hamlet of Godric's Hollow. Their hair, once a vibrant red, had grown grey, even white, with age. They passed a monument to Arianna Dumbledore, and another to a member of the Peverell family. Next to a grave marked with the names of James and Lily Potter stood another gravestone, made to look quite similar. The inscription read:

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger-Weasley

For even the Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister,

and to give His life a ransom for many

The brother and sister stood looking at it a long while. Finally, the man spoke. 'I hope they're at peace now, at last'.

His sister replied, 'After so long in the service of others—the service of us—it is the least that they deserved, to lie together'.

They both fell silent. Tears trickled down their cheeks, remembering. After many long moments, the woman laid a wreath of flowers at the gravestone, and the two walked off in silence, hand in hand.


End file.
